


Oh Dang, Is That Freddi Fish?

by kirrjava



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8589463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirrjava/pseuds/kirrjava
Summary: Essentially a self-insert.The most unlikely, trans-continental meetup of two of the most skeptical of this whole system.  Why should someone believe in a force beyond their control that would bring them to their soulmate?  A chance meeting at an entreaty to a burger joint, a purely whimsical possibility (probability), and reeling too much in shock to figure out where to go from there.(I know Dan didn't go to the Columbus meetup but I'm really sad I didn't make it ok thx)





	1. Setting Out

                Kirjava had taken to wearing the cheesy Freddi Fish watch whenever it was allowed.  It had been so long since they actually remembered where they had gotten it, but they had a feeling it involved a kid’s toy from a fast food restaurant.   Honestly, they didn’t ever _not_ have it, unless they absolutely had to leave it off.  Its plastic was chipped in several places, with a small button to release the analog clock from Freddi’s body.  It doubled as a nice fidget toy.

                And it tripled as a means to cover the numbers consistently ticking down along the inside of their wrist.

                The only moments Kirjava really glimpsed the time bomb of a countdown was every night as they showered before they went to bed.

                They’d always been a skeptic of the whole system of soulmates, of predetermination, or any sort of definite belief.  The timer ran out right when you touched your soulmate?  Ridiculous notion.  Over time they’d gathered their fair share of arguments against the whole thing—their particular favorite was the evolutionary unlikeliness of it all.  They didn’t figure that one out until they took a course in college.

                Before the reasoning, and before the logic, Kirjava just didn’t want their whole life to be controlled by some unknown force.

                Control was a big part of it.  Control, and lack thereof.

                Or maybe they rejected the idea to feel special.  Counterculture _was_ a big “thing” then.

                Just like they hated being boxed in because they were a _girl._  Like back in primary school, how they were told that they couldn’t _do_ something just because of their fucking _gender_.  Not that gender even mattered to them now.  But, apparently, their gender mattered to everyone else.  Something to _pin them down_.  There wasn’t any control in that.

                So they shrugged off whatever possible label there was to be had.

                It was a strange sense of transience, as if they didn’t quite belong _anywhere_.  A mere observer, understanding the workings of the systems of society, but not actively participating.  They had _that_ all wrong, too.  You can’t escape the world you live in, no matter how much thinking and rationalizing you do.

                How fucking naïve Kirjava could be, to think they understand so much despite being a teenager in high school.  They watched YouTube videos, and read books, and studied _philosophy_.  They were _sophisticated_.

                They lost several friends due to their obsession with being _right_ all the time.  And Kirjava eventually realized just how important mistakes were to living as fixing them was.

                For all the claims they made of how the countdown to meeting one’s soulmate didn’t _matter_ , Kirjava sure thought about _why_ they didn’t care an awful lot.

                They weren’t great at relationships of any sort (a nice cocktail of OCD and anxiety took care of that).  So why would meeting their soulmate be any different from the rest?

                Oh, how they liked to think that was the case.  Until they met _her_.

                Dabbling in social media meant Kirjava met a lot of friends over the Internet.  There was this girl, in the height of some following or another that they’d joined, that turned out to only live a few minutes away.  They started out small, meeting up to go to concerts, and eventually grew closer over time.  Kirjava hadn’t been paying attention to their timer in the months around then, either—it was some phase of rebellion.  They’d lost track, either way.  But as a year went by, they’d truly believed that the timer had gotten it wrong, for the both of them.

                Kirjava was in love with this girl.  They’d really, truly, fallen hard.  A year into their friendship is when Kirjava realized—they figured out just how much they cared for her.  Just how _not straight_ they were.

                And then Kirjava shipped out of town to go to college, and things got fucked up pretty quickly.

                The girl met her soulmate.

                At first, it wasn’t so bad.  They kept in touch, and were still the closest of friends.  Whenever Kirjava was home from school, they would hang out and see shows and talk and laugh and be together.

                But soon school and work and _everything_ took over both of their lives, and the distance became more than physical.

                Kirjava was being left behind, and there was nothing they felt they could do.  Because it was the first time in _so long_ that they’d felt like they had something worth trying for, and the _first time_ they felt they had proof against the disgusting joke that was the numbers on their arm.

                And then she stopped talking to them at all, and whatever belief they had in _finding someone_ was crushed as well, soulmate be damned.

                And so the Freddi Fish watch remained on their left wrist.

                Despite their penchant for having a one-track mind, Kirjava did have other things to think about besides their sheer disbelief in an evolutionary anomaly.

                College was a wonderful exchange of ideas and the birth of lifelong friendships.  It softened the blow of unrequited love and they figured out how to move on.

                That was what a lot of their life seemed to be.  Moving on.

                Without a lot of purpose or direction, they felt the familiar sense of wandering, of having no place to belong.  It was a side effect of their anxiety, but rationalizing it didn’t make the feeling any less real.

                Kirjava always told themselves they spent too much time thinking and not enough time _doing_.  It was something even finding friends or finishing projects couldn’t cure.

                Or maybe they just needed a shift in perspective.

                Role models were wonderful, when they modeled what you wanted to become—or, rather, be _like_.  Enter YouTube, once more.

                Kirjava fondly looked back upon several integral parts of their life, several experiences they’d had with fresh eyes.  Sometimes all it took to see something more clearly was to leave it alone and come back in a few years’ time.

                But they’d also found new people to admire, new people to inspire them.  And that growing sense of nihilism faded away again.  And, goodness, how they did not miss it.

                This was what Kirjava needed—filling the time with projects they could emulate, or with words of encouragement.  They found a new community of people who shared their exact goal, and they fucking loved every goddamn minute of it.

                They felt like _trying_ for something again.

                They didn’t need to read a dead Roman’s thoughts on friendship to know they were whole on their own.


	2. Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirjava finds themselves on the cusp of several transitions in their life and they're not sure where to go or what to do. Let's throw another spanner into the mix, shall we?

                Kirjava woke up to the sound of their sister singing in the shower.  Also, to the sound of the shower.  There were a few barks of a dog mixed in there, too.  Thin walls were the best they could ask for, as far as apartments in Columbus went.

                The first thing their hand went for on the bedside table was the watch.  The second, their glasses.

                The blinds were drawn, though still letting a few stray beams of light into Kirjava’s mess of a room.  Saturday meant beautiful, beautiful rest.  Sunday was when their life was sucked back into whatever black hole of entropy still remained of their academic career.

                They’d been living with their sister for about a year, now, finally finished their postgrad.  Currently, they were in and out of jobs, waiting for Ohio State to get its shit together enough to actually _have_ positions that Kirjava could take.

                They had finally grown up enough to not roll their eyes every time the topic of soulmates came up, but politely declined whenever asked to contribute in some way.  Everyone else had grown up enough to know how touchy a subject it could be for some.

                Kirjava’s sister had fewer than six months until her timer ran out, and it was becoming more and more difficult for them to avoid the topic in any capacity.

                Whenever they had a moment of weakness, they would slip the Freddi Fish watch a little bit further up their arm to glimpse the numbers.  This morning was a particular instance, the darkness of the room failing to hide the blocky font along the inside of Kirjava’s forearm.

_Wait—holy fuck--?_

Their blood ran cold, and Kirjava could imagine their kidneys churning to produce enough adrenaline to support the sheer _panic_ that had just dropped into their brain.

                _Two months_.  _They had two months left_.

                Growing up hadn’t lessened their skepticism for the soulmate shtick, but there had never been, in recorded history, a missed connection.  Sure, there were tragic and short-lived meetings, ending in some horrible accident.  But never a missed one.

                At this point, Kirjava felt resignation—a comfortable nihilism just like everyone else (being “special” was a desire also lost to the whole Growing Up thing).  That still didn’t mean they were excited to broach the topic.

                But they only had _two months left_ before this person apparently came into their life and changed it completely.

                The _passivity_ of it all quickly turned the cold of Kirjava’s panic into the heat of anger.  How cruel life could be.  They didn’t deserve this.  They didn’t need anyone else, not like _that_.

                Kirjava closed their eyes, shifting forward on the bed to lean elbows on thighs, rubbing at their temples with trembling fingers.  _Stop thinking about it, worrying does no good_.

                They had other things they needed to worry about.

                Two months passed in a blink of an eye, though, and with it, so too did Kirjava’s calm demeanor.  They prided themselves on being a rather low-maintenance person on most matters, but apparently not now.  It took an incredible feat of willpower, but they managed to not look at the timer again the entire way.

                And then, their phone buzzed one afternoon.

_Wanna get Wendy’s today?_   The text from their friend Rachel was…pretty out of the blue.  They hadn’t talked to her in several months, much less seen her face.  Also she lived about ninety minutes’ drive from Columbus, which did not help make her case less suspicious.  Not to mention Kirjava was not a big fan of fast food.

                But they weren’t particularly busy, and they hadn’t seen Rachel in a while, so…what could it hurt?

                _I mean.  Sure?  But…may I ask why?_

                _I’ll explain in the car.  I’ll pick you up in fifteen?_

                What.

                The hell?

                “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”  Kirjava’s high school friend pulled up in her beat-up sedan, her smug grin leaning out of the driver’s side window.

                “Hop in, I said I’d explain,” she jerked a thumb over her shoulder, past waves of shoulder-length strawberry blonde.  Kirjava thought it strange that she’d started dyeing her hair the same colors that she did back in high school—there were some…un-wholesome memories that could cause dangerous associations.  They didn’t mention it to her, though.

                Ten minutes later, Rachel was slamming the door to her car in some nondescript parking space on the side of a residential road.

                “Why the _fuck_ are the Game Grumps coming to Columbus, Ohio?”  Kirjava’s mouth had grown progressively wider on the drive over to…wherever the fuck in the city they were, as their friend illuminated them on the meaning behind the whole thing.

                Rachel rolled her eyes, as if explaining the _obvious_ to a small child.  “Arin has had that thing for Wendy’s, you know?”

                “So he and friends decide to plan a surprise visit to _Ohio?_ ”  Not that there was anything _wrong_ with Ohio, but...trans-continental travel to make an entreaty to a fast-food chain seemed over-the-top, even for Arin Hanson.

                She shrugged.  “Hey, I wouldn’t look the gift horse in the mouth.  At least it’s not at some ridiculously expensive con, or something.”

                Kirjava couldn’t argue with that.  But they didn’t have enough time to _prepare_ themselves for this… _emotionally_ , and they hated milling around waiting to talk to someone—it always made them feel so…out of control.  It was a frustrating experience.

                Rachel shifted the bag over her shoulder.  Art pieces, she’d clarified earlier, for signing or gifting.  Kirjava didn’t think they were good enough to show their work to Arin yet.

And Dan was gonna be there, too.

                The abrupt-ness of it all wasn’t allowing the emotion to really sink in, and the OCD was having a field day with invalidating whatever else Kirjava was feeling.  Every so often the coherent thought would hit their mind, though, bringing with it a fresh feeling of excitement and euphoria that Kirjava hadn’t felt in quite a while.  This was it.  The chance to thank these people, the ones that inspired them to keep going on the worst days.  And it would never be enough.

                Why couldn’t their fucking brain calm down for _one day?_

                “Buck up, Kir.  It’s gonna be fine.  It’s gonna be _more_ than fine, it’s gonna be _wonderful_.”  Rachel could see the look they were getting on their face.

                Kirjava shoved their hands in their pockets, hunching their shoulders and setting their face into an exaggerated pout.  Rachel gave them a playful punch on the arm.

                It was around 4:30 when they arrived at… _wherever_ Arin Hanson had apparently tweeted they would be, in the middle of some field.  There were already a fair amount of people here, since the whole shindig was supposed to start around 5.

                More and more people gathered in the space, bumping into each other and exchanging their stories and thoughts.  Soon, Kirjava was joining in as well.  Despite their initial apprehension, they had to remind themselves that this was the community that they appreciated so much.  This was the community that all had their own reasons and lives, but were here because they saw something in the Game Grumps that inspired them.

                A combined shout rose from one side of the crowd, and most everyone ran to look.  _This was it.  They were here._

                Kirjava hung back.  Crowds weren’t their forte.  A nervous hand made its way to the watch on their arm, clicking the button open, and closing it again.  A hand gently tugged at their arm—Rachel, gesturing for them to follow.  They took a few tentative steps, before mumbling, “You go on ahead.  I can wait.”

                “You sure?”

                “Yeah.”

                Rachel gave them a small smile before turning on a heel and disappearing into the crowd, hugging her bag of art closer to keep it safe from stray hands and elbows.

                Kirjava could feel their heartbeat pick up, and cold sweat breaking out on their back.  They were not prepared for this.  The fidgeting with the watch began to grow more frantic.  They lifted their wrist to check the time.

                “Oh, _shit_ , is that Freddi Fish?” An incredulous voice from Kirjava’s right filled their ear.  Immediately, they shrunk in on themselves, pulling their arm close to their chest.  It was instinct at this point, to shy away from any prying eyes.  “Whoa, dude, didn’t mean to startle you,” aaaand _nailed it, Kir._

                “Shit, sorry, I’m kinda…jumpy.  Uh, yeah, it is, hah,” Kirjava turned to respond to the voice, only to match it with the familiar face of _Dan Avidan_.  Wild hair, scruffy chin, lanky build and all.  "Oh, wow, hello," their mumbling was answered with a toothy grin, so wide it showed his gums.  There was always something strange about adding the third dimension to a man Kirjava was so used to seeing on their computer screen.  Well.  

                He raised a hand to wave back, probably in lieu of greeting with words.  “I remember that ridiculous computer game—apparently too difficult for five grown men to play,”  _what?_   Oh, right, Freddi Fish.  They laughed at that, vaguely recalling the series, and he smiled big enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes.  "Can I see it?  I didn't know those games were even big enough to have that kind of merch."

                Kirjava took a second to silently wrestle with the half of them that wanted to keep their makeshift timer-cover away from prying eyes, before nodding in agreement at Dan's request.  Just as they were about to hold the watch out to him, they remembered that the games had honor, and it needed defending, no matter how incapable five grown men were at playing them.  "I'll have you know," they pulled back slightly to point an accusing finger at him, "that Humongous Entertainment made only the _most high-quality computer games_ ,” they thrust out their wrist to accent the theatrics, eliciting a giggle from the man, “possibly some of the _greatest_ of all…” then their eyes glimpsed the black, block numbers on their forearm—the numbers furthest right ticking in their final seconds.  And they could only watch as the numbers flickered down into an unmoving, unchanging, line of small zeroes, just as Dan’s fingers brushed their arm, “…time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine that gif of Michael Bluth saying, "I don't know what I expected."


	3. Isolated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shock stretches out a situation, and one-track minds lose sight of everything else in that moment.

                At the mention of the word, time itself seemed to slow down around them.  It was like Kirjava’s ears had popped, like the atmosphere was the only thing keeping them from floating away.  Celestial bodies had no effect on the gravity, apparently, and the laws of physics were smashed when put in the way of a staunch belief being thrust aside, of someone’s entire world being turned on its head.  The proverbial rug was pulled, and now the only thing Kirjava felt was a swooping in their stomach as the subsequent proverbial gravity kicked in.

                Dan was still focusing on the watch, though, a spindly hand poking at the scuffed plastic, grinning as though he were young enough to be the true demographic for the computer game.  Completely oblivious.

                And then his eyes were on theirs, taking in the evident _horror_ written all along their brow and wrinkled nose.  “Whoa, shit, did I--?” He followed their gaze back to their wrist, at the small, yet _painfully obvious_ timer, prickling like uncomfortable heat.  “Oh.  Oh…my god?”  Dan ripped his hand away to look at his own wrists, rubbing frantically at the inside of his left forearm.

                _How obvious was this?_   Kirjava shot a nervous glance around the surrounding crowd.  Several people had evidently noticed Dan, and were beginning to congregate at a fairly polite distance, but Kirjava could see the cameras flashes, though, instinctively hunching their shoulders and ducking their head.

                Could they see what was happening?  What had _just_ happened?

                Dan was still scratching at his arm.  “Put makeup on a few days ago, hadn’t washed off yet.  I…I never liked looking at it, you know?  And the fans just…”  Kirjava let out a small laugh and nodded.  They could feel a stinging in their eyes.  Then, he froze, eyes back on his wrist, before he turned it slightly for them to see…

                All zeroes.

                Dan’s arm shot out, an expectant smile settling on his face, manic look in his eyes.  “What a fucking pleasure—I mean, wow, I’m—I’m Dan, and _god_ , have I been waiting a while to meet you.”

                They couldn’t believe this was happening.  It was mostly shock that had them numbly holding out their hand for him to shake, his large hand enveloping theirs, even though they’d always considered their own to be of a good size.  They needed to speak, to say _something_.  This couldn’t be happening.  It _was_.  “H-hello, Dan, I’m--!”

                “Kirjava!”  Rachel’s voice carried over from behind them, giving them an excuse to drop his hand and turn around so Dan couldn’t see them _crying_.  “Check it, Kir!  Arin signed my paint—holy, oh shit?  It’s Dan?”  She walked through a group of people waiting to talk to the man to join Kirjava, tucking her bag of artwork back under her arm.

                “Rachel, I, uh--?”  Kirjava tried to talk, to say _something_ , but Dan seemed to sense the _flight_ response and cut in before they could finish.

                “Her timer—it just, and _my_ timer, they...I guess she’s my--?”  He lowered his voice, lifting his wrist slowly, inconspicuously.  “I had no idea.”

                Rachel’s eyes widened further every time she glanced back and forth between Kirjava and Dan.  Kirjava still had their back to him, and all they truly wanted at this moment was to be back at the apartment, drawing or reading or fucking _translating Cicero_ , if it came down to it.

                They lowered their voice to whisper in Rachel’s ear, “I need to go.  Away from here.”  Their friend took one last glance at Dan before looking Kirjava hard in the eyes and nodding.

                Finally, _finally_ , Kirjava turned back to give Dan a watery smile, “I’m sorry, Dan,” his smile disappears, mouth opening to shape the myriad questions he probably had now, “this is a—fuck, um, I don’t know…”  His eyes were _so focused_ , deep brown—though nearly black in the shade of his wild hair—with a gaze intense enough to make you believe he would listen to _anything_ you said to him.

                “Please don’t run away,” _that easy to read, huh?_ “I can tell this is, uh, weird, and you probably didn’t believe in this…whole, timer-thing,” he spat out those words with bitter sarcasm that Kirjava could _definitely_ relate to, punctuating it with a violent sweeping gesture of his hand.  “But please, uh…” that same hand found its way into his hair, pushing it back in repetitive combing, “ _fuck_ , I don’t know.  I don’t have a reason _not_ to believe in it?”

                Wrong thing to say.  Though, given Kirjava’s current emotional state, they didn’t really know what counted as the _right_ thing to say.  One thing they _did_ know, however, was how many reasons they had to _not believe_ in soulmates.  _Especially_ at this moment.

                So, of course, their mind goes right to matching his sarcasm with their own.  “Okay,” they crossed their arms, cocking a hip out as they did so, “let’s imagine for _one second_ ,” immediately they dropped their arms into an akimbo stance, unable to decide on a posture for this monologue, “just _one second,_ that this isn’t some sort of—of elaborate, celestial _joke_ , because I’m not _fucking special--_!”

                Dan moved so quickly, Kirjava didn’t have time to react, and suddenly their face was pressed up against his collarbone as his arms wrapped around their torso.  That _sneaky bastard_.

                It was an understatement to say his hair was _everywhere_ , tickling the cropped sides of Kirjava’s head, and their ear, nearly sticking into their eyes.  And then he was mumbling into their ear, ” _Hey, I promise.  Hah, I promise, uh…can we please, just talk about it?”_

                They had already gone so long on their own, _believing_ they didn't need anyone else.  Because they _didn't_.  They'd been hurt time and time again because of these damned timers, taking people away from them.  Hell, they barely even thought their friends liked them until they explicitly said so.  And even then, the truth faded away pretty quickly.  They didn't need anyone else, and they _definitely_ didn't deserve anyone else.  Every one of these thoughts was fighting against the reality of what was happening _right here right now all around you Kirjava_.  They needed a distraction.

                This hug would do, for a while, anyway.

His shirt was worn soft, and its scent was kind of overwhelming since _most of their face_ was pressed up against it.  Their mind supplied the thought _it’s probably a shirt for one of those 80s bands he likes_ , before his arms tightening around their frame brought their mind back to the present.

                …It _had_ been a while since they’d had a good hug.  A sassy voice in the reaches of their mind muttered that this was all to make them more agreeable to the prospect of… _this_ , but the rest of their mind already knew that.  And it was totally cool with it.

                “… _Fine,_ ” they mumbled back in response, much of their voice getting muffled due to the fact that his _shoulder_ was shoved into their _face_.

                “What was that?”  He pulled back a bit to smirk at them, and this was almost _worse,_ how close his face was to Kirjava’s own, enough that they could almost hear the crinkling at the corners of his eyes when he grinned.  “Didn’t quite catch--?”

                “I said _fine,_ you snarky _bastard,_ I’ll give it a _try_ \--!”  He threw his head back, still _so close_ , to give a laugh Kirjava had only heard in a rare few videos.  His arms were shaking, he was laughing so hard.

                And suddenly, somehow, this was _so much less scary_.

                This had all passed in a matter of seconds, but Kirjava felt like they could stand here for _hours_ , hugging the supposed soulmate they’d found in this man they’d known about for _years_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i guess the chapter is titled "isolation" because Kirjava really is not big on the touching thing. Or feeling close with anyone in any capacity (though that's more how they perceive life rather than a controllable behavior)  
> Freddi Fish creates the spark of true love. I'm sorry I don't make the rules.


	4. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fleshing out character wise (hahaha my myriad insecurities COUGHS), and finally reaching Wendy's. C'mon, Wendy's. Let Arin love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sorry for the poor update I have no excuse other than I spent lots of free time doing nothing (or maybe trying to have friends, though that is,,,,, highly unlikely). But I am back from my semester abroad in Edinburgh, despite all the flight trouble and secondn thoughts on leaving. Thank you for reading this. It's all un-beta'd and first-off written, because I revise like a four year old child--in that I don't revise at all.  
> And Idk I am losingn steam on the story in general so I'm gonna try to create a final Final thing at some point. But. Whatever. Thanks again. Enjoy.

But of course, all good things must come to an end.  “Uh, guys?”  Rachel broke through their little spat, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder at the crowd surrounding them that, surprisingly enough, had not dissipated into thin air like Kirjava had wished themselves to do mere minutes ago.

               Dan coughed and, conflict playing out along his angular face, dropped his arms from their embrace.  “I, uh, can I give you my number?”  The chance to be _brave_ for once was _lost_.  Kirjava wished they could frown without Dan worrying, but there were greater things to worry about _anyway_.

               _Conspicuous._ Kirjava’s eyes widened (eyes widening, best reflex response), and Dan immediately backpedaled, “not like, give me your phone, but…you got a piece of paper?”  They blinked, before distractedly lifting their arms in a half-hearted attempt to look for what he requested.

               _Conspicuous_.  Rachel, thank _every deity_ for Rachel, thought to pull out one of her drawings, “I actually meant for you to sign some of my things anyway, maybe you could right now, hah, though…” she trailed off at the _look_ Kirjava was giving her, before letting out a single cough and grabbing her tiny sketchbook from the bag.  The responding smile from Dan was _blinding_ , as she opened it to a random page and held it out.

               _Conspicuous_.  The word _kept echoing_ all around Kirjava’s skull, their mind trying to will every other part of them to fade away into the ground, the crowd, the fucking _void_.  This wasn’t happening.  It couldn’t be happening still.  The fear that Dan’s laughter had dispelled was still waiting along the edges, the eye wall of the unfairly sudden hurricane that was Kirjava’s _life._

               “Please?”  Oh, right, Dan was _still there_.  What had he been saying?

               “P-pardon?” They finally stuttered out.  The page with his number on it was somehow already clutched in their hand, and the people surrounding the three of them had shrunk the circle of respectful space, and they didn’t know how much time had passed since… _since._

               He smirked again.  “You promised, we’d at least see how it goes?  Please?”  The snark had fallen out of his tone by the end of the question, and they honestly didn’t know why he was still so unsure about how Kirjava felt.  They had _agreed_ , they had _been here_ for the meetup _anyway_ , why did he still think any of it was up in the air?

               “Yes, of course!”  They hoped they hadn’t hesitated _too_ long in responding, but the way his face fell the _slightest_ bit had them knowing that was not the case.  Great.  Just keep blundering forward.  “Really, Dan, yes, I want this.  I want— _some_ thing, from this.” They gestured vaguely around them, trying to keep track of everything that was going on _all at once_ —the stares surrounding them, Dan’s expectations, Rachel’s discomfort and disbelief.

               And then, seconds from their emotions truly going haywire, Arin Hanson’s voice was booming out over everyone’s heads, ” _WHO WANTS TO GET SOME FUCKIN’ BURGERS?”_

               And with a resounding cheer, the mass of people was _moving,_ and everything was getting lost in a blur of faces and bodies.  Rachel grabbed onto the crook of Kirjava’s right arm to keep together, before slipping through the crowd toward the back.

               There was something about the awkward not-quite-finished-finishing of conversations that always got to Kirjava.  It didn’t get to them after paltry interactions with store clerks or random strangers off the street, since that usually meant they would never see those people again.  But stumbling at the finish line of a conversation, failing to stick the landing in the most _exact, perfect_ way, always raised their metaphorical hackles.  They needed a sense of contained closure within each conversation, and settling for less left a bad taste in Kirjava’s mouth.  It happened so often to them though that, at this point in their life, they’d learned to brush it off pretty quick—all the cold adrenaline and skittish hands.  They were fine.  Everything was fine.

               Until everything was _very not fine_ and suddenly their entire life had been changed in a single moment.  Kirjava needed _time_ , needed _warning_ about any imminent shift.  Every big change in their life had happened through meticulous planning and a lot of stress-induced midnight ranting to their friends.  Things that happened so quickly, like _this?_   They tended to _un_ -happen at the exact same speed.

               But then, they supposed that was what the timer on their wrist had been telling them to do their entire life.  No plan had been laid out earlier than _this_ one.

               That was beside the point, though.

               So, suddenly, Dan was gone, and the conversation felt torn open like roadkill.  It was as if, with him, with _this situation_ , Kirjava had reached some measure of calm in their frame of mind, and the nice naïve way of thinking that _everything will be fine_ flooded their synapses with dopamine.  That feeling had sort of trailed off by the end, when Rachel and others began interrupting that haven.

               Rachel was familiar enough with their behavior to know Kirjava should best be alone— _or_ , in the rare occasion that she knew how to pull Kirjava back up on their feet, knew exactly how to do _that_.  “Here,” she gently took their right hand, carefully avoiding the watch and the line of numbers further up their arm, and closed their fingers tighter around the paper where Dan had written his number, “it will work out soon, you just gotta remember that.”  Words that held only slightly more meaning than ‘ _don’t worry_ ,’ but there was comfort, nonetheless.

               Eventually, Kirjava’s ragged breathing calmed and they nodded to Rachel, who smiled and tightened her grip on their hand, holding it the entire way as they followed the crowd to the burger joint.

**Author's Note:**

> Kirjava is a name I'm obsessed with k lol (thanks Philip Pullman ur brash but u write good books). It is pronounced kinda like "Keer-yah-vah." And it is Finnish for "colorful"  
> Everyone else is probably someone I know and maybe this is very not self-insert and more me working thru shit. Still.  
> I wish I could have gone to the columbus wendy's meet-up but I was flying out to Scotland for a semester abroad that day! Alas! (opposite of a problem, I understand, but I'm still pretty salty about it)  
> I had a sick-ass Freddi Fish watch when I was younger and here it returns into my life (and it's gonna come into play later, though I don't remember if Dan was part of that Steam Train playthrough so LOL idk)  
> And FINALLY I was recently reading De Amicitia by Cicero and the accepted train of thought about friendship is "why would some person need friends if they are whole on their own?" which means Romans believed the happy man understood his own wholeness and thus skepticism in the soulmate system and whatnot. So if one is whole on their own, why would they need a soulmate? Survive vs. Thrive, my friends. Survive vs. thrive.


End file.
